


Stockholm [Draco Malfoy]

by monkeygonetoheavenn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Era, Love, Magic, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Smut, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkeygonetoheavenn/pseuds/monkeygonetoheavenn
Summary: Kidnapped by Death Eaters to be used for Lycanthropy research, she has no one to save her. She had to go through the torture and humiliation all alone, until the resident of the house she’s been staying in shows her some sympathy, which slowly turns into something more.[Draco Malfoy x OC]Dark and mature themes will be present throughout this whole story, trigger warnings will be at the beginning of every chapter necessary.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Original Female Character(s), Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue;

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick disclaimer: this book will have dark themes present throughout the whole story. Trigger warnings will be put in when necessary. The following things will be spoken about in detail;  
> Drug abuse  
> Violence  
> Torture  
> Death  
> Depression  
> Self harm  
> Pain/immense pain
> 
> I will add to this list if necessary. 
> 
> If any of these trigger you in any way please make sure you take care of yourself and do not read this book for your own sake, I value your mental health and stability more than I care about reads and kudos. If none of these bother you too much, please do continue to read and comment on the story as I progress. 
> 
> Also, do not worry about Until We Meet Again, i am not stopping my writing on that book. I’m stuck on the story at the moment I have major writers block but I’m still continuing with the story, I just had an idea today to write this story and I couldn’t not do it haha. 
> 
> Anyways, enough waffling from me, I hope you enjoy this story, please do comment and let me know what you like and don’t like. 
> 
> Hope you’re all staying safe!

_**September, 1998.** _

The once disgraced halls of Hogwarts were now filled with laughter and chatter, everywhere you turned you would be greeted with a bright smile from teachers and students alike. It was infuriating. Had everyone simply forgotten what had happened? These people had fought in the war alongside her, had they not? She could not join in with the smiles and the laughter. She could not join in with the lighthearted chatter which echoed down the halls and throughout the classrooms. It felt wrong, almost disrespectful.

The school had since been fixed, the once battered and broken castle was back to its full potential, as though its elegance had never left. It was as if there were never hundreds of dead bodies littering the halls, as though the screamed which once ricocheted off the walls had never happened, as though the unforgivables were never murmured under the roof of the 'safest place to be.'

She understood everyone had different coping mechanisms, people wanted distraction, they wanted to play pretend. It was infuriating, but understandable.

She looked around the hall, skipping over faces she didn't recognise and pushing away the knot which formed in her chest as she didn't see many familiar faces, and wouldn't be seeing them ever again. She was lucky, she thought, her friends were still seated around her, alive and well. Her mother was at home, probably watching some old Russian sitcom with a fag in her hand.

She hadn't eaten anything yet, it was the first meal back, yet she couldn't bring herself to eat. She couldn't eat large portions of food, after having to ration every meal for what felt like years, she'd gotten used to the small portions and the lack of snacks. The only things she allowed herself to divulge in were cigarettes and alcohol, though that wasn't something she was willing to promote as a healthy coping mechanism. It was tiresome, feeding into everyone else's false reality. She couldn't bring herself to do it, she couldn't just forget everything and pretend everything can just go back to normal. Her body simply wouldn't let her, the physical and mental scars took too much of a toll on her for her to be able to pretend.

Walking through the hall it felt as though she were in a daydream, the laughter was unnatural, there were smiles she hadn't seen in over a year seemed to appear so easily. She didn't want to be there. She wanted to be at home, with her mum, watching some old Russian sitcom her mum loved and forget about the war. She wanted to hide away in the muggle world forever, throw magic behind and start afresh. She knew her mum wouldn't care, she didn't want her coming back to Hogwarts in the first place seeing as she didn't speak to her mum for a year when she was fighting in the war with The Order.

She hated worrying her mum, she hated not being able to speak to her. Now, she was finally able to, then 4 months later she had to be shipped off to school again. She just wanted to go home, get away from this life. She wasn't welcome in the wizarding world, no matter if Voldemort was gone she knew the prejudices against half bloods and muggle borns were not simply going to vanish, especially not prejudices against half breeds. No matter how much she loved the feeling of magic fluttering through her veins and the power she felt when using a wand, it was something she was willing to sacrifice to be in a world where she truly felt welcome.

Instead, she was back at Hogwarts, having to pretend everything was normal - that everything would be okay. She knew it would in a way, things would go back to normal, buildings once demolished would be brought back, teachers who had died would be replaced and people would mourn respectfully for those who have passed. Yet, the mental scars were easy enough to ignore, but the physical ones always managed to dampen her mood every time she let the war slip from her mind - even for just a moment. The scars on her arms and legs and torso would catch her eyes and the memories of how she got them would flood back.

After the war, alcohol and cigarettes became her new best friend. That and secret shags with random muggles she would meet when she'd sneak out to forget. But she could never forget completely, the blissful ignorance alcohol bought would always be followed by a thick and hard depression. The high of having sex with someone would always come to an end eventually, of course, she had her friends who were there for her, but none of them truly understood what she went through. The 9 months of torture, mentally and physically, would never be forgotten - ever. There were some wounds that just wouldn't heal, no matter how much therapy or how much medication you take they simply would not just vanish.

She supposed she would just throw herself into her studies again, get her N.E.W.T.S and go on with her studies to be a Healer, maybe after she'd finished her Eighth Year she would just vanish completely. Fall in love with a muggle and have a normal job and family. Maybe not even that - maybe just live far, far away from England. Far away from everyone, and just start afresh. Change her name, find a job she could enjoy and live her life free of magic. It didn't sound so bad in theory, but she knew it was an ignorant hope in practice.

She hated people who pretended nothing happened, she couldn't become one of them. Hundreds had died, if not thousands. And all of them were like her - they all had 'dirty' blood. Their portraits decorated the walls, their faces were on hundreds of Magic Frog cards that were now able to collect. The younger years were eager to collect them, it was as though they were treating other peoples trauma as a game.

She just wanted to forget. She just wanted to stop caring. To feel numb. To feel nothing. She wanted to drown her sorrows, drown her thoughts and drown her memories. Those things all lead up to where she found herself now. She was sat in the Slytherin common room, cigarette in one hand, a bottle of firewhiskey in the other. She was in a routine, switching from bringing the cigarette to her lips then the firewhiskey. The music was deafening, the lights were blinding, but she felt content. 

Everyone was either dancing or doing some kind of drug, most likely for the same reasons as she was. She was fairly drunk, though not as drunk as she would like. Realising the bottle she was holding was empty, she made her way to the table where the drinks were, quickly swiping another bottle for herself and taking a generous sip. Her friends had fucked off somewhere, probably to shag someone or to get even more shit faces than they already were. She couldn't blame them, she was planning on doing the latter.

"You alright darling?" A familiar voice said from behind her, she could hear the loopy smile on his voice.

"I'm perfectly licked Zabini, how about you?" She replied.

"Oh Marilyn," he made a tsk sound with his mouth, faking discipline, "you better save some for me love." He swiped the bottle from her hand, taking a long swig before settling it back down.

"What are you doing with boring old me, shouldn't you find some pretty little girl to shag?" She asked.

"No, I've got to look after you and make sure you don't give yourself alcohol poisoning." He chastised. 

"I'm just trying to forget, just for one night." She sighed, tilting her head back and closing her eyes.

He looked at her, an expression on his face that made it look like he knew something she didn't. He sighed as well, passing her the bottle so she could take another sip before snaking his arm around her waist and pull her closer.

"Go on," she patted his chest and pushed him away, "go find some girl to shag."

"Well, if you say so." And with a wink, he disappeared into the crowd leaving her alone again.

She kept drinking, ignoring the burning sensation in the back of her throat. Her world was spinning and she had a lazy grin on her face as her friends found their way back to the crowd and were yelling at her to join in with dancing. Marilyn let herself be dragged into the middle of the dance floor. The let the music fill up all of her senses and she let her body move to the rhythm. Her friends hands were all over her, though she wasn't too sure it was actually her friends but she was too drunk to care.

Her once delighted mood came crashing down as a hand touched one of her more sensitive scars. She hissed out in pain and immediately retracted herself from the crown and ran out of the common room as fast as she could. She knew being drunk always had a crash to follow through, she just didn't expect her crash to come so soon.

She found herself in the astronomy tower, trying to regulate her breathing. She didn't even realise she'd brought a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of firewhiskey with her - but she was eternally grateful for her drunk instincts at that moment. She sat down on the floor in a very inelegant manor and lit a cigarette before bringing the new bottle of whiskey to her lips. She pressed her forehead against the cold railings guarding her from falling to her death. She closed her eyes and forced herself to collect herself back together. Though she was interrupted by someone swiping the bottle from her. She looked to her side to find a pale looking blond boy say besides her drinking her whiskey.

"Give that back." She demanded, trying and failing to take it back from him.

He just chuckled and look at her whilst he took another long swig. "Looks like you've had enough. I'm barely tipsy, I need this more than you."

She just sighed, plucking another fag from the packet and silently offering him one seeing as he'd probably take it even if she didn't offer. He took it without a second thought, lighting it with a snap of his fingers.

"Cheers." He mumbled with the cigarette still dangling between his lips.

She snorted. "You'd probably take it anyways."

He just rolled his eyes, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at the sky.

"Didn't enjoy the party then?" He asked after a while. 

She shook her head. "Everyone's too happy. I can't just forget about everything and pretend it's okay."

He gave her the same look Blaise did earlier, but she was too drunk to care or even register what had happened. 

"What about you? Got bored of all the girls begging for a shag?" She said, the sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

"No," he said, rolling his eyes, "someone took the last bottle of whiskey, I wasn't about to let you drink it on your own when I'm only slightly tipsy."

"I'm sure if you looked hard enough there would of been another bottle."

"Well, you're not the only person who enjoys hiding away in the astronomy tower." He mumbled.

She looked over at him and saw his eyes were closed and he was lying down next to her. They weren't touching, nor were they even close. She sat up and swiped the bottle, taking another gulp and feeling the numbness wash over her again.

"I said you've had enough." Draco said, swiping the bottle back from her. 

"Sounds like you've had enough too." She grunted back.

"Fuck off." He said sternly. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Oh right and you can tell me?"

"Well when you drink every chance you can get, yeah, I'll tell you to fucking stop." He growled.

"Thanks for the concern, Malfoy, but you can't tell me what to do either." She snapped.

The alcohol in her system was giving her confidence she knew she wouldn't have if she was sober. She'd never spoken to Malfoy before unless absolutely necessary. All she knew was that he was just some broken boy, another person in the collateral damage of the war. From what she'd read in the papers his mother was under threat which was why he was on the opposing side. He didn't earn any sympathy points from her, especially not at the moment when she knew she wouldn't remember any of this the next day.

She didn't know him. She only knew snippets of what she had read in the papers, and that wasn't enough to create an opinion on him just yet. She knew he was doing the same as she was, drinking away his problems and forgetting all that happened during the war. It was a dark and miserable time, more people died than anyone thought possible. No one expected to beat Voldemort, then the last Horcrux was found and destroyed seconds before Harry Potter fought Voldemort to his death.

She sighed again, closing her eyes and letting the world spin around her. The stone was ice cold against her back, so cold to the point it was almost painful, but she welcomed it. It seeped into the sensitive scar tissue and into her veins, cooling her body down which caused a huff of content to pass through her nose. She'd forgotten Malfoy was besides her, though when the clink of the bottles reminded her she did nothing to show her irritation. She wanted to be alone, he was the last person she'd want to spend the night with, he was insufferable. She wanted to drown her demons on her own but of course he had to come and ruin it. She was just confused as to why?

Why hadn't he left? He didn't know her, she didn't know him. They'd probably exchanged 5 words during their previous time at Hogwarts, she was a nobody. She had few friends outside her house, and she certainly wasn't planning on making any more. Nobody knew her, the only time she was noticed was when people heard her name. Something was off, though she couldn't place her finger on what it was.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him take another cigarette and light it. She sat up, following in suite with an annoyed frown on her face.

"You could at least ask."

"What are you gonna do about it?" He retorted.

"Why are you such an arsehole?"

"Why are you so fucking insufferable?"

She shut up after that. Pulling her knees up to her chest as a strong breeze encapsulated her. Her head was throbbing, she was more drunk than she was intending to be though she had no complaints. No matter how infuriating Malfoy was, he was an entertaining distraction with his arsehole behaviour. It was odd, the weird sort of comfort she was getting from the anger bubbling in her, she could feel it growing stronger and stronger in her chest as he took another cigarette from the packet.

"Stop smoking my fucking fags." She exclaimed, yanking it out of his mouth and kicking the packet out of his reach.

"Oh fuck off, what the fuck is your problem?"

"What's my problem? You just came and followed me up here and started being a dickhead for no fucking reason! What's your problem?"

"God you're so fucking annoying, do us both a favour and get that stuck out your arse, yeah?"

She let out a barking laugh at that. "Oh just cause you're a fucking Malfoy you think you can do anything you fucking want, yeah? Well your name means shit all now, no one gives a shit if you're some poncy pure blooded wanker so why don't you do both of us a fucking favour and piss off, yeah?" She spat back in a mocking tone.

She watched his fists clench by his sides and his jaw tighten, she noticed his fingers twitch ever so slightly, the same way hers did. After a while of staring, he let out a soft chuckle and lay back down on the stone, closing his eyes once more. She laid down too, refusing to acknowledge him or say a word. Their breathing fell in sync as they both laid down against the cold, hard stone, somewhat comfortable in each other's company.

She wanted to yell, she wanted to scream, she wanted to punch, kick, hit, hex, curse or break anything within the vicinity of her. She couldn't even fathom why she was so angry, yet she felt so empty. She felt so confused and broken and alone, yet so calm and serene at the same time. Her emotions were on overdrive, yet they were non existant as well.

She pushed the emotions aside, using her Occlumency to box them up and shoved them to the back of her mind until everything was clear. The only thing she could hear and feel were the soft rises and falls of Dracos chest. She wanted him to stay like this forever, quiet and unmoving. It was reassuring almost, knowing he was feeling the same as her.

Eventually, he broke the silence.

"You've always been insufferable, though I didn't expect alcohol to enhance that as much as it has."

"Why are you here then, Malfoy?" She breathed out

"Told you, firewhiskey." He said lazily.

"Well you've got your firewhiskey, so why don't you leave?" She replied, though not in an angry tone, more a curious one.

"Why don't you leave?"

"You followed me here."

"Wasn't planning on having a fucking tea party when I did." He grumbled out.

"So why did you stay? You don't know me, I don't know you." 

"That's not true." He breathed out.

She turned her head to the side which sent a throbbing wave of pain through her head, she winced through it and saw that he had his eyes closed and had clearly caught up to her in his level of drunkenness. 

"What's not true?" She said, her voice close to a whisper.

"I do know you Marilyn, I know you very well." He sighed.

"How? We've never spoken before." She furrowed her brow in confusion.

He let out a humourless laugh, he opened his eyes and turned to look at her, catching and holding her gaze.

"You know me as well, you know me better than anyone else."


	2. End of Sixth Year;

_**July, 1997.** _

The train ride was bleak and boring, the weight of Dumbledores death was heavy on everyone's shoulders and the shock of the Death Eaters attack was evident in every non pure blood students face, that included Marilyns. She didn't speak to anyone the whole trip, Tulip and Nola tried sparking up conversation, but upon receiving blunt and uninterested replies they gave up, leaving her be.

She was bitten by Greyback that day, alongside Bill Weasley. It changed her in more ways than she thought possible. All of her senses were heightened immensely, she'd only been through one full moon and she'd never been through something more painful in her life. Remus had tried to help her see the positive sides, he'd even helped her mother set up the basement for when she would be home, setting up all the wards and necessary precautions for her whilst being there for her through the initial shock and healing of it all. She couldn't be more thankful for him.

The greyness of the sky bled into her mood, she'd found that was a small perk of Lycanthropy, the Dark Magic now infused in her veins made it easy to tune things out, even emotions. She'd been using that to her advantage, alongside the other senses. She wasn't entirely opposed to the Lycanthropy, she chose to used all the side effects to her advantage - as much as she could without being reminded of the pain and agony it was causing her at the same time.

She felt a soft hand on her shoulder and turned to come face to face with Noel Harwick who was looking at her with a soft smile.

"Marilyn love, it's time to go." He said calmly, gesturing for her to follow him.

She collected her things, shrinking her case so it could fit in her pocket before following him out and onto the platform. It felt strange to be back here, she'd stayed for every holiday this year, not daring to risk her mother's safety by going home. Now, she had no choice, she would go home for a while, be called back to Grimmauld Place and be set a new round of Order Duties to fulfil. Remus had owled her over the summer, using her mother to write in Russian to avoid exposure via interception. Her, and many others in her year, would most likely be helping out with The Order seeing as they were severely undermanned and had underestimated the fatality of the war. She wasn't opposed to the idea, she wanted to do everything she could to help, though not being able to protect her mother worried her. She was an innocent muggle, Marilyn had made sure she stayed home today, meaning she was alone on the platform, surrounded by reuniting families.

She grimaced slightly as someone passed her who had clearly not showered in a while, Noel chuckled at her face so she presumed he'd smelt it too. 

"Christ, almost as bad as Snape that bloke." He joked.

That brought a smile to her face, he grinned at her reaction, happy to see she was actually capable of feeling emotions.

"Where's your mum today? I don't see her." He asked, moving slightly closer to her as he saw the parents of Slytherin students pass by.

"I made her stay home, didn't want to risk anything." She replied.

"How are you getting home then?"

"Unlike some people, Harwick, i actually passed my apparitions test." She shot him a sly smirk.

"Piss off." He mumbled.

He spotted his own mother in the crowd who was ushering him over. The rest of the group, Nola, Pamela, Michael and Tulip all bid their goodbyes, leaving the pair on their own again.

"Alright," he huffed out, "I'll see you soon darling, get home safe."

She turned to kiss him on the cheek, before giving him a secret smile she saved just for Noel.

"I will don't worry, you too love." She hugged him quickly before they parted ways.

She made her way out of the station, passing by Blaise Zabini who gave her a quick smile which she returned before disapperating alongside the rest of his family. She came outside and was met with a plethora of ignorant muggles who knew nothing about her. She fell back into being a nobody, just how she liked it. It was refreshing, the anonymity of her identity. No one would judge her for her blood status or her Lycanthropy, because they simply didn't know. It was reassuring in a weird way.

She wandered through muggle London for a while, window shopping in all the the small shops which were running up the road. The streets were bustling with ignorant muggles, she let herself fall in with them for a while, pretending she was one of them and she was coming home from Secondary School for the summer. Pretending she'd just finished her GCSE's and was going to go to college in September, she would go on to med-school and become a nurse or doctor and save all the other innocent muggles. Though she couldn't live in her daydream for too long since she knew her mother would be worried.

She made her way into a secluded alleyway where she knew she wouldn't be seen before apparating to another alleyway which led off of her street. She dusted herself off, having stumbled upon her arrival. After Marilyn had sorted out her appearance, she made her way onto her road, taking her time to admire the quiet abodes which resided next to hers. She arrived at the end of the street outside her house and stopped dead in her tracks, she nearly gagged in the smell on Dark Magic being emitted from the house. She immediately drew out her wand, stalking up to the house as quietly as possible. The front door was open slightly, she strained her hearing to see if anyone was there, though she could smell them from a mile away. Quietly, she opened the door, her wand pointed out straight in front of her, the living room was empty.

It was eerie, the television was on, everything was the same, but it was empty at the same time. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it would come out of her chest, she quietly tip toed along the hall, praying to all the gods above that her mother was okay. She arrived at the door to the kitchen, she couldn't hear anything but the smell of Dark Magic was so strong her eyes were stinging.

The moment she opened the door she could hear her mother scream "MARILYN NO!", then a jet of light cast her wand away and she was pinned against the wall, a hand wrapped tightly around her throat. She was gagging and scraping at the hand to let her free, her eyes were watering and she couldn't see anything. She only thing she could hear were her mothers quiet sobs from across the room, through her blurry vision she could see a wand being held to her mothers neck.

The grip around her own neck loosened ever so slightly as a gruesome voice finally spoke up.

"We're on special orders from the Dark Lord to pick you up little one, heard you're one of Greybacks Cubs, you're gonna be a very important asset to the Death Eaters darling." The voice purred into her ear.

"I'm not going anywhere with you." She spat out, staring the unrecognisable man in the eye.

He chuckled at her ferocity, not once loosening his grip or hesitating once. "What's your name, little one?" He asked.

"Let. My. Mother. Go." She choked out, her body was squirming uncontrollably underneath his grip.

"What your filthy muggle bitch of a mother? No chance darling. You're lucky the Dark Lords being more lenient on Half-bloods or I would of killed you the moment you stepped in this place. Bloody scum your father was, fucking a stupid muggle whore, such a pity that beautiful pure blood was wasted on someone so plain and filthy."

"Oh yeah? What's your name then?" She demanded, stopping her struggling momentarily.

"Rodolphus Lestrange, now, will you tell me your name?" He said, a sly smirk decorating his features.

She mirrored the smirk, causing his to falter slightly. "Marilyn, Marilyn Lestrange."

He retracted his hand from her neck and she fell to the floor coughing and spluttering everywhere, his eyes were wide and his skin was pale, as though he had just seen a ghost. She looked up at him and caught his eye, her sly smirk turning into a grin at his reaction. It sure was a strange way to find out you were an uncle.

"You half-breed filth you're lying!" He yelled, his fists clenching at his sides, he turned to her mother who was still being held at wand point by the second Death Eater. "You stupid whore, there's no chance in hell my brother would ever fuck someone as disgusting as you, how dare you say something like that to me!"

He raised his hand to strike her, though he was propelled backwards by Marilyn who had retrieved her wand. Rudolphus drew his wand, shooting hex after hex at Marilyn though she easily matched him. Defensive and aggressive curses with ease.

She drew her wand back, muttering the incantation for an unforgivable curse before she stopped dead in her tracks at the voice of the second Death Eater.

"Finish that word and I'll kill your mother without a second thought." The voice said.

"Let her go and I won't torture him until he can't remember his own name." She reasoned.

The masked man prodded the wand deeper into her mother's neck, earning a soft whimper from the trembling woman.

"дорогая, просто делай то, что говорит мужчина, и все будет хорошо." Her mother said, nodding slowly to her daughter.

[Darling, just do everything the man says and everything will be okay.]

"Мама, мне очень жаль. с тобой все будет хорошо, я обещаю." She replied, lowering down her wand.

[Mama, I'm so sorry. Everything will be okay I promise.]

She placed her wand on the ground and was immediately slammed face first into the fridge besides her, her hands were magically bound together and before she could say a thing her head was covered with a black bag. The last thing she heard before she felt the tugging of apparation take over her were her mothers piercing screams.

Then, her feet met the floor and her head followed soon after and her world went black.

-

Anastasia Dobreva screamed and screamed at the men apprehending her daughter, not giving a damn about the wand pressed up against her neck ready to shoot our curses which would make her scream for entirely different reasons. Though the pressure of the wand in her neck disappeared just as her daughter did, leaving her alone to collapse onto the floor of her kitchen. She let out a blood curdling scream, finding the carving on the wall Remus had put in which alerted him of danger. Within seconds, he was running through the door and on his knees in front of her cradling her to his chest and trying to calm her down.

"Sh, Anastasia, what happened? Tell me what happened?" He asked softly, his senses on overdrive so he couldn't smell the Dark Magic in the air.

"They took her." She sobbed. "They took my baby."

"Who did, Anastasia? Where's Marilyn?" He asked, concern filling his body to the brim.

"Le-Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange." She choked out, she was shaking uncontrollably. He could barely understand her through her thick Russian accent that was all the more evident with her breakdown.

"Shh, darling, sh, we'll find her don't worry, she'll be okay I promise." He kept repeating the words, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her.

-

The bag was still on her head, though her senses were on override. She was tied down to moving bed of sorts, the bounds were laced with Wolfsband which was seeping into her skin and causing her immeasurable pain. The smell of Dark Magic was putrid in the air, clogging her airways alongside the bag which was suffocating her, making her choke on her saliva. There were murmurs all around her, she was sure they were louder but she was too weak to make out the voices. As she passed through the unfamiliar halls the familiar scent of wolf invaded her nose, she strained her ears to make out the array of conversations surrounding her. 

"The Dark Lord wishes to use her in his new project for testing, it will help contribute to his research on the new potion being created to help Wolves keep their human mind during the full moon. He's fulfilling his promise to you and your people, though he did want your permission first seeing as she's one of your...children." A voice she didn't recognise spoke from her left.

A million thoughts raced through her mind. Project? Used? Potions? Full moons?

A deeper, scruffier voice, which belonged to the wolf, replied. "She is no child of mine, she's too old, turned too late, she was merely collateral damage. Use her as you wish, as long as the research is substantial in helping with the cause I am all here for it."

Her blood went cold, she'd heard that voice before. Fenrir Greyback. She was ushered down another hallway before she could hear any more of the conversations. The sippets of conversations she could hear were growing clearer around her.

"...so young...going to be of much use..."

"...so many plans...new curses and potions...tests..."

"...filthy half-blood...heard she's a Lestrange..."

"...lucky if she doesn't die...won't last long at all..."

The lights flashed over her eyes as she passed by them all, she couldn't make sense of anything. Her hearing and smelling were clogged with too many things making it tricky for her to decipher anything. She could just about make out the pale marble of the ceiling through the tiny holes in the cloth bag covering her head.

She entered through a doorway, she could feel the ward passing over her body like cling film. The room was filled to the ceiling with ancient magic, she suspected runes had been carved into every square inch of the walls, most likely the floors too. The only light source was artificial, a large strobe light recently implemented into the ceiling.

The bag was ripped from her head, she had to blink to adjust to the new brightness of her world. She couldn't speak, couldn't move, her body was shocked into stillness. The burning in her skin stopped as the binds were removed, she was tipped off of the bed and toppled onto the floor, heaving and choking in the process.

"Get up." A harsh voice spat at her.

She immediately obliged, scrambling to her feet and nearly toppling over again in the process. She was shoved back into a chair, bound once again by the wolfsbane ropes. She hissed out in pain, choking on the bile that was rising up into her throat and burning her oesophagus. She looked around the room and squinted at the bright, white light shining down on her. She was surrounding my metallic tables topped with hundreds of different medical utensils. The walls were filled to the brim with shelves full of different potions and books, most definitely depicting dark and gruesome spells that were just waiting to be used on her.

"Wh-where am i?" She croaked out. She was met with no response.

The man standing in front of her simply scrawled out notes in a shabby journal he was holding, occasionally glancing up at her - specifically her wrists and ankles where she was bound. The only sound coming from the room were the occasionnel cracks from the light flickering, or the drip falling down through the ceiling and splashing on the floor. The man walked to the other side of the room, picking out a phial of a clear looking potion before forcing it down Marilyns throat. 

"My am Dr. Charles Jugson, I am going to ask you some questions and you are going to answer them all completely truthfully." He said, shining a torch in her eyes and tilting her head to the side.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"Marilyn Lestrange." She blurted out before she could stop herself. Veritaserum.

"Lestrange?" He quirked and eyebrow. "Interesting." He scrawled out some more notes in his journal before speaking again.

"When were you born?"

"15th of September, 1979."

"How old does that make you?"

"17."

"Are you infected with Lycanthropy."

"Yes."

"How many full moons have you experienced?"

"One."

"What happens to your body during these full moons, be extremely detailed."

"My bones morph into that of a werewolf's. My muscles, skin and flesh rip apart then sew themselves back together. My skin splits in every single place then spurts fur. My spine goes first, cracking at every vertibra. Then my hands and feet, every small bone and every square inch of flesh start changing. My limbs follow soon after. The last to go is my head, my ears move up to the top of my head and my hair retracts into my body, my nose breaks and turns into a snout, my eyes bulge out of my head as my eyelids go back up into my head. After my eyes go, I stop remembering things. I can only remember smells and feelings." She explained, her tone bland and dull.

"What do you smell and what do you feel when you are a werewolf?"

"I can smell the magic of the Shrieking Shack, all the wards and protective spells surrounding the house. All I can feel is pain and desire, the want to hunt and to kill, to feed and to escape."

"And this scar?" He prodded at the three claw marks peaking up from the hem of her shirt. "From your transformation, yes?"

"Yes?"

"Okay." He said, writing more things down in his journal. "Let's go back to your family, who is your mother?"

"Anastasia Dobreva."

"And your father?"

"Rabastan Lestrange."

He quirked an eyebrow again, murmuring something under his breath and writing what seemed like a hefty paragraph into the pages. He hummed shortly after he finished his writing, tapping the pen on the page in an irritating manner.

"You were a student at Hogwarts, yes?"

She nodded.

"What house?"

"Ravenclaw."

"Do you know why you are here?" He asked, finally looking in her eyes after avoiding her gaze for the whole conversation.

"No."

"You are here to be carried out as a test subjects for the many theoretical practicals I have come up with. You will be tested on 4 days a week, 10 hours a day. You will be provided with 3 meals a day, you will be spending your full moons in a room we have provided. You will be an asset to our research, such a young, beautiful and strong witch like you is the perfect person for this project." He said it all with a look of awe on his face as he raked his eyes over her. "We will be studying every aspect of your Lycanthropy, as I'm sure you are aware there is minimal research that had been done on your kind. We will study your reaction to harm, your healing time, testing out your heightened senses. We will use you to find out everything about every little aspect of your infection and use that information to aid us on our journey for a cure of some sorts." He came close to her, his face only inches away from hers, she could feel his shallow breaths on her face. He picked up a strand of her brown hair, twirling it around his finger with an admiring grin on his face. "You are going to take us places, Marilyn, you will take us so far." He said in a voice no higher than a whisper.

Her body was rigid, terror was the only thing she could feel. Lust was the only thing she could smell, and a deranged man was all she could see. He leant over her, tilting the back of the chair backwards until she was lying down completely flat. He called for, what she presumed were some guards, to escort her to where she would be residing for who knows how long. This time round, the bag was not covering her head, so she could see every hallway she passed by. It looked eerily aristocratic, like it was an old and ancient mansion - not a hospital like she had first imagined. The walls were made out of shiny bricks, polished so delicately that she could see her own warped reflection passing by.

She was eventually escorted into what seemed like a drawing room, it was decorated elegantly, not fitting for what her current situation was at the moment. A door behind her head just out of her sight was opened, she felt the same cling film like magic course through her body as she entered the threshold. She was tipped out of the bed once more, being left to choke and dry heave onto the hardened concrete floor of what she presumed was the basement of the house she was in.

She started screaming and begging at the people who escorted her in to let her go, they clamped the door shut on her as she continued to claw at it. Begging for someone, anyone, to help her, but it wasn't going to happen.

She curled herself up into a ball in the far corner of the spacious room which was dimly lit by drowsy candles lining the walls. There was nothing surrounding her. The runes and wards protecting the basement dampened her magic to the point where she had to strain every muscle to feel even a small spark of magic flow through her veins. She felt weakened. Violated. Vulnerable. She hated it.

She fell asleep dreaming of her and her mother living far, far away, back in Russia where she grew up. They were happy. Far away from magic. Far away from this. It was nice. Normal. A fantasy. A cruel, dark and twisted fantasy taunting her the whole time her eyes were closed, only being broken by the large clamps covering the door being lifted and the murmuring of voices filling her ears once again, reminding her of what was to come.


	3. Beginning of the End;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Lots of violence and torture in this chapter.

She woke up to a stream of light flowing into the dungeon before subsequently disappearing. It happened every day, at the crack of what she could only guess was dawn, the door would open to wake her. A small, pathetic excuse for a breakfast was laid out for her - though she ate it nonetheless. She discarded the remains before retreating back into the far corner of the room which she had made her sleeping area. It was the least damp and mouldy part of the room, though the concrete was no comfortable bed.

It had been a week since she had last left the room. She'd counted 27 meals being delivered, all being delivered 4 hours apart. They were all accompanied by one glass of water and nothing more, never any seasoning, never any pudding or sweet things. Always bland and boring meals.

After her first day, which was mostly spent screaming and clawing at the door demanding freedom, she quickly gave up with that defense. It was completely useless, they were never going to listen to her. Instead, she resorted to repeating song lyrics in her head, poetry and different facts about magical creatures crept their way into the forefront of her mind as well. She turned to practising her gymnastics in the tight space she was in, doing anything she could to get her mind off of the agonising pain of not knowing. She would pace back and fourth, counting every single step she made before subsequently collapsing on the floor from the exhaustion of walking for 12 hours. 

She'd started rationing her meals, only eating a third when it was delivered then keeping the rest to eat over the next four hours until the next meal arrived so she could savour the energy for the day. She would carve on the wall, Russian poetry or song lyrics. Little phrases her mother would say to her, the alphabet, her name, the numbers. Anything she could think of. She'd scratch out the different facts about her favourite animals, books and any topic that came to mind. Before the lights would turn off at night, she'd read what she had written 7 times over, preparing herself for sleep.

Today however, when the guards came to retrieved her finished breakfast, they had all wands pointed at her as well. She froze, the hair on the back of her neck sticking up as she cowered further into the corner. They were all masked, wearing the appropriate Death Eater attire as they approached her - wands drawn.

"Get up you filthy little half-breed." One of them growled at her, yanking her up.

They all man handled her onto a moving hospital bed, binding her down with more wolfsbane ropes whilst she was kicking and screaming for them to let her go. The moment she was tied down, they all shot a string of stunners at her, after the 9th one hit her square in the chest she finally fell rigid, unable to move.

Marilyn was escorted out of the basement, driven through the halls she came in when she first arrived before she was set back into the middle of the 'operations room' where she had her first interrogation. She was left alone in the dark, dimly lit room, surrounded by a plethora of medical instruments, potions and books with a mirror to the left of her. On the other side was a window which was bolted shut, the curtains were drawn and they were black out curtains, making the only light source the flickering strobe lights on the ceiling. She waited there for what felt like hours, but were only a few agonisingly long minutes, before the door opened, revealing an excited looking Charles Jugson.

"Today we are mainly going to be doing some tests, you'll be here for a few hours depending on how much we get done. If we finish the health checks and such fast enough, we can progress onto the more gruesome stuff." He announced, a playful, bordering on manic, grin on his face.

He waved his wand and the binds disappeared, as did the stunners, her clothes changed into that of hospital attire and the bed rose up so she was in a sitting position. She felt horribly vulnerable, her skin so bare. It was humiliating, she couldn't bring herself to move or do anything in fear of what the punishment could be. Her skin was prickling with fear as she watched the way the Doctor looked at her with hungry eyes, it was jarringly uncomfortable.

He approached her, shining torches in her eyes to begin the health check. He tilted her head every which way, plucking a hair from her scalp and placing it in a jar for who knows what. He prodded her scars with different levels of pressure, noting down her reactions and other things Marilyn couldn't understand. He cast dozens of different diagnostic spells, scrawling down every single thing he read. Noting down the lack of iron in her system, the presence of nicotine which had yet to disappear from her veins. He took down her blood pressure before extracting a blood sample from her and levitating it into a cupboard on the far side of the room and locking it with a flick of his wrist. Her heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour when he finally stopped inspecting her, he simply studied her, occasionally scrawling some more information out in his little journal.

"What are you writing down?" She asked, finally plucking up the courage to speak.

"Everything I deem important enough to record." He said nonchalantly, drumming his pen onto the page. "You're a moderately healthy witch, aside from the nicotine, how often do you smoke?"

"Not that often." She mumbled, looking around the room.

He hummed in reply, walking over to one of the tables besides her and plucking out a long, slender silver rod. He wiped it down with disinfectant first, bringing it under the light to get a better view.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, the scent of silver stinging her nostrils. 

"Be quiet. Only speak when you are spoken to, you're a patient, I know what's best for you." He snapped back, making his way towards her. 

He dragged the rod across her skin, making her hiss out in pain. It left a long line of sizzling skin in its path, he continued dragging it down her arms, only stopping every so often to write something else down. When he got to her hands, he held the rod down onto her palm, making her bite her tongue so hard that she tasted blood.

"Please," she begged, "stop it!"

He didn't stop. He simply placed the rod down besides him before pulling out a large dinner spoon, disinfecting that also. This time, he didn't bother warning he simply pressed it down onto her neck, making her cry out in pain. All of a sudden there were loud bangs coming from the window, making Jugson hesitate and retract the spoon. Loud yells were suddenly made distinguishable as Marilyn collected herself.

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF HER! THATS MY DAUGHTER! THATS MY DAUGH-" the furious voice was cut off by what sounded like a curse being sent his way.

"Dad?" Marilyn called out, trying to remove herself from the chair and towards the mirror.

Before she could go far, she was bound back down, unable to move as Jugson continued to burn her on every open bit of skin available to him. She became blind her her own cried mixed in with her fathers please beyond the mirror, the pain was making her see stars, she couldn't focus on anything other than the burning sensation radiating off of every square inch of her body. The screams only seemed to motivate Jugson more, he tested out different utensils, going from cutlery to knives, from knives to ropes with silver sewn into them. By the time he had finally stopped, which was a good two hours later, she had nearly passed out from the pain.

She lay completely still, the only sounds were her fathers muffled cries and the soft scrawls of the Doctors writing.

"Wh-what happened to my dad?" She asked, not moving a single muscle.

"When the Dark Lord found out about his fraternisation with a filthy muggle, he ordered your father to watch my studies as punishment for his behaviour. He decided this would be a fate worse than death, watching his offspring in pain."

"Oh." Was all she managed to croak out.

"Did you see him often? Was he very present in your life growing up?" The doctor started to question, giving the occasional side glance to the mirror.

"Somewhat."

"Please may you elaborate?"

"And help you torture more people, not a chance." She retorted.

It was pointless really, fighting back, arguing. He proved the pointlessness of her actions by simply shoving a truth serum down her throat, the bitter taste wrapped around her taste buds making her choke in disgust.

"Answer my question. Was he present in your childhood?" He asked, his tone more stern.

"He'd come for birthdays and holidays. Sometimes surprise visits on the weekend. Never stayed long. Never got to see him much. Visits became less often when I went to Hogwarts. Haven't seen him properly since fourth year." She said through gritted teeth, trying with everything in her not to answer.

He hummed in reply, flipping to a new page to write out his findings.

"It's lunch now. Food shall be coming for you soon. I'm going to leave, I'll be back in an hour. You will be monitored for the hour I am gone. You are not allowed to touch anything or go anywhere." He said.

Shortly after, the door opened to reveal 2 more masked death eaters and a floating platter of food. Jugson left, leaving Marilyn alone with the Death Eaters to eat her lunch silently. She took her time with eating, considering they had provided her with no cutlery to help her out. It was a plain chicken dish, nothing too fancy. She suspected Jugson was about to go dive into a gourmet buffet, eating to his hearts desire.

She looked out into the closed off window, tilting her head while wincing through the pain to try and see what time of day it was. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen proper daylight, she still wasn't entirely sure how long she'd been here.

"What time is it?" She asked the two men guarding the door, but she was met with no response. "Is my dad ok?" Again, no reply.

She gave up after that, she just eased herself back down into her seat, inspecting her new injuries.if this was the rate they were starting at she didn't want to know what would be happening in only a weeks time.

Once an hour had passed, the Death Eaters left and Jugson returned to his experimentation on Marilyn. It lasted forever, she didn't know so many things were made of silver. Her skin was blistering, on her wrists you could even see the bone from how deep the burns had gone.

After another hour of experimentation, Marilyn passed out from the pain. It was excruciating, even with the silver only hovering over her skin it still stung. At least at Hogwarts the cutlery was stainless steel and the platters were easily avoidable, here, there was no escaping. 

She woke up in the dungeon again, laying flat on her back in the middle of the open room. She hadn't been healed, though her extra abilities from the wolf had healed the less fatal burns. She tried to move but cried out in pain, instead she flopped back down, staring up at the ceiling with blurry vision as the tears cascaded down her face and onto the floor around her. She turned her head to the left and saw a dinner plate waiting for her, she had no energy to eat, she was too nauseous. She knew not eating would just add to the nausea but at that moment she was simply too drained to care.

Half an hour later, a death eater came and took her meal away before she even had the chance to eat it. She couldn't move. She didn't bother trying. She simply laid down, hoping the burns wouldn't get infected or that her wolf abilities would kick in and start the accelerated healing process. She shut her eyes again, exhaustion taking over her body once more, she let herself be wrapped up in the false reality of her dreams and forgot about the real world.

-

Days had passed. Each day 3 new meals would be sent to her, each day she would barely eat any of it. She had forced herself to sit up and crawl over to her 'sleeping quarters' and that is where she lay for the remainder of the week. She counted 5 meals that had been delivered, meaning she was on the second day. She had no sense of time, no sense of where she was, once the pain and sadness washed away it was replaced by firing rage and anger.

The door opened again, to reveal another Death Eater entering the room. Upon seeing her, the unknown person stopped in their tracks, staring at the pathetic shallow breathing girl in the far corner of the room.

She eyed the masked man with detest, as she always did with every single person who came in here. Though what confused her the most was the fact that whenever someone came to deliver meals, Dark Magic was always thick in the air, invading her senses; now, however, it was nowhere to be seen, she couldn't smell it at all. It made her feel on edge, who was this person? Certainly not the usual men who come and deliver her food.

The death eater hesitantly made their way towards her, placing the plate of food on the floor next to her, not moving to leave. She stared at them for a few long, dragged out minutes, confused as to why they were staying. 

"You need to eat." The voice said, sounding eerily familiar.

She lazily lifted up her blistered hands, wincing through the process. She lifted them up as far as her battered arms would manage, looking at the mask of the person the whole time.

"I can't eat." She croaked out, her brows furrowed in confusion. "So, you can leave."

"I've been ordered by the Dark Lord to supervise your meal times from now on to ensure you're eating." The person said in a mono-tone voice.

"Well, unless you're gonna feed the food to me I doubt I'll be stuffing my face with food anytime soon." 

The person shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds before getting to his knees in front of the girl. He grabbed her arm, though softened his grip once she cried out in pain at the man handling, he held his arm in her hand, drawing is wand with the other hand and tracing it down the burns. Within a minutes of spell work, her once blistering hands covered in boils were now back to their freckled complexion. She stared at the unknown in awe, confused as to why they were being so kind. 

Then, he conjured up some cutlery, floating the platter and utensils into her lap and moving a few metres away from the girl so she could eat in peace. He didn't say a word, neither did she.

He watched as she stuffed her face full of food, her demeanour calmed right in front of his eyes as her once gaunt face regained some of its colour. Once she was finished, he walked over to her and collected the food, banishing the plates and cutlery before turning to leave. As he reached the door, she heard her voice which froze him in his tracks.

"Who are you?" She asked, her knees pulled up to her chest. "Why did you help me?"

"You needed to eat. I'm on strict orders." He replied, not facing away from the door.

"What's your name?" She pressed again. He didn't reply. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"I already know who you are, Lestrange."

"Well I don't know who you are." She retorted. 

"You're rather stupid for arguing with a Death Eater."

"Well I know you're not going to hurt me." She said simply.

"And how do you know that?"

"You don't smell of Dark Magic, every other Death Eater does. You healed me, when every other person who delivered and retrieved my meals didn't even bother to look at me."

"That means nothing," he scoffed, "I'm simply following the Dark Lords orders. I do not care for you wellbeing."

"I didn't say you cared for me. I said you wouldn't hurt me, but seeing as you're so adamant I'm wrong, why don't you prove me wrong then?"

He stared at her, though she couldn't seen his tight expression. He wouldn't hurt her. Didn't feel the need to. He just turned back around and opened the door, before he left her turned to her once more.

"Get some sleep Lestrange, now you've eaten you'll be going back to Jugson tomorrow." And with that, he left her alone again, closing the door behind him.

-

The unknown Death Eater was true to his word. She was woken up again, at what she presumed was the crack of dawn and wheeled back into the medical room she’d grown all too familiar with. She supposed she’d given up by now, she didn’t even bother struggling when they came in to stun her and tie her down. No yelling obscenities, no kicking biting and scratching, she just let them. She decided to blame the exhaustion, the weight of her injuries covering her body was proving to much to handle for a teenage girl. It was humiliating, to say the least.

The room was light, the blinding ceiling lamps were clouding her vision and bringing on a suppressed headache she forgot she had. She was left alone for a few moments, waiting in agony for another day of what she could assume was going to be filled with torture.

The door opened to reveal Jugson, a sinister smile on his face as he got straight to it, starting out with all the usual procedures. 

Blood pressure. Blood test. Blood sample. Disease test. Infection test. Health check. Notes. Notes. More notes. Inspections. Notes. Questions. Notes.

Once that was done, it started all up again. The burning sensation of silver drowning her body in pain. Every pinpoint of her skin was prickling with disdain, her own screams were all she could hear. Burning, stinging, pain, agony.

Then history repeated itself once more as her fathers screams filled her ears mixed in with her own.

He finally stopped once she was on the brink of passing out, sending her off with the same group of Death Eaters escorting her back to the dungeon where she was being locked up.

She curled up in a ball again, softly whimpering to herself. The only sounds filling up the room were her own muffled sobs and the occasional drop of her tears hitting the floor. She willed herself to stop. Willed herself to be strong. Though, she was allowed to be weak, just this once.

Suddenly, the door creaked open ever so slowly, revealing another Death Eater with a meal in their hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late updates again, I literally have no excuse I’m just lazy as shit lol
> 
> Anyways hope you enjoyed this chapter, lmk what you like and don’t like 
> 
> Sorry this was a bit rushed, just wanted to get it out fast n I’m writing the next chapter as we speak ! 
> 
> Hope you’re all doing well and staying safe :)


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